


Requiem

by poppetawoppet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, More angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4760168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/pseuds/poppetawoppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for thegameison_sh cycle 4, round four: timeless requiem</p>
<p>Sherlock and John claim sanctuary, except things go badly</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem

Warning: character death

The doors of the church open. John automatically genuflects, and Sherlock begins to laugh, collapsing onto one of the pews.

"What exactly, is so funny?" John pants.

"We're running for our lives," Sherlock grins," and you stop to honour God."

John blinks, and he laughs, too. It's completely absurd. He's not even Catholic.

He sees the priest in the confessional, head bent, likely over the Bible. John briefly wonders how hard it must be to have to sit there and wait. He sits down on the pew across from Sherlock.

"Why do I let you get me into these situations?"

Sherlock sits up. "I suppose it's a form of codependency."

"Maybe I just need the exercise."

Sherlock shakes his head. "Do you think we lost them?"

"Well, if nothing else, we can claim sanctuary."

John looks around the church. It seems safe. There is music coming from another room, perhaps the choir practicing for the next day services. Other than that, it's as if London does not exist anymore. It's just John and Sherlock and the priest and the distant choir.

John stands, and begins to walk toward the altar. 

"John," Sherlock says.

There is something in his voice that makes John want to keep walking, because he knows what he will see when he turns.

There's a small, bright red spot on his chest, then another, and two on Sherlock as well.

"Guess we didn't lose them, after all," John says.

"At least I was right."

John laughs, because of course Sherlock would thing of that.

"Boys, it's been such a long time. Did you miss me?"

John turns. It's the priest.

"Quite a gamble, assuming we'd come in here," Sherlock says.

"Well you know me, Sherlock, always the one to take chances!"

Moriarty claps his hand in glee, walking towards them. He runs his hand along the pew. 

"No bombs this time. No escaping."

John looks to Sherlock, who is as calm as ever.

"Death is nothing."

"Perhaps," Moriarty says. "What do you think, John?"

John shrugs. "I've almost died plenty of times."

"Good. I hate when people plead for their lives."

Moriarty gives a signal.

*

Sherlock opens his eyes with the sound of the door. He's fallen asleep in the pew again. He rubs his face with his hand, ignoring the bristle of his unshaven face. The priest in the corner looks concerned, but Sherlock isn't sure he wouldn't accidentally strangle him in the confessional. So Sherlock sits in the pew and stares at the altar.

He closes his eyes, knowing that the dream will come again.

_The door to the church opens, and Sherlock watches, amused at John's automatic and unnecessary gesture. He doesn't tell John that he sees the men up above, or that the choir is singing a Requiem Mass. Sherlock wants to live the illusion that they've escaped once more. He's surprised that John hasn't noticed the pervasive smell of chlorine. Or maybe John has, and has simply dismissed it as a normal cleaning smell. It's only when the gunman reveal themselves that Sherlock speak up. John's face isn't too surprised, so maybe he had known as well.  
Moriarty has a secret smile on his face, even as he walks towards them. Sherlock isn't afraid of dying, especially at the hands of Moriarty. But Moriarty raises his hand, and Sherlock hears the guns at the ready, when Moriarty leans forward and whispers,_

_"I said I'd burn the heart out of you, didn't I?"_

_Moriarty's hand falls._


End file.
